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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23666506">Corners</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/StAnni/pseuds/StAnni'>StAnni</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Gotham (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Complicated Relationships, F/M, Future Fic, Infidelity, Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 00:22:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,002</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23666506</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/StAnni/pseuds/StAnni</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Selina.”  He says quietly, wanting her to look at him – tell him where she’s been.  And she moves, pulling slightly away – his heart going with her. “Can I stay here for a while?”  She asks with eyes hooded but desperate, searching his own.  She knows he will let her stay, even if he knows that he shouldn’t.  So he doesn’t have to answer.  But he does have to know – from her. “What happened?”<br/>“Nothing”  She lies and her shoulders move in a small but tense shrug against his chest “I just need a place to stay.”<br/>If Alfred were here he’d clear his throat from the other side of the room – give Bruce that warning look he knows too well by now.  Maybe she suspects that he knows about the warrant out for her, Jim’s warpath to track her down.  Maybe the only reason she is here is because she hopes that Jim wouldn’t think Bruce stupid enough to let her back in.  Maybe she knows all that and this is just what he fears it to be, desperation banking on his dogged loyalty to her.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Corners</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Her cheek press into his neck and her skin is cold from the winter air outside.  She holds on to him with a grip at the lapel of his coat and almost instinctively, certainly without conscious thought he closes the coat around her, drawing her into his warmth.  The leather from her own jacket is icy and wind worn.  He feels her shift against him and her chin is at his shoulder, her breath – a sigh at his ear.  He hasn’t seen her in weeks and he has been good, he has been getting better at being good.  Now it’s all shot to hell again.</p><p>“Selina.”  He says quietly, wanting her to look at him – tell him where she’s been.  And she moves, pulling slightly away – his heart going with her. “Can I stay here for a while?”  She asks with eyes hooded but desperate, searching his own.  She knows he will let her stay, even if he knows that he shouldn’t.  So he doesn’t have to answer.  But he does have to know – from her. “What happened?”<br/>
“Nothing”  She lies and her shoulders move in a small but tense shrug against his chest “I just need a place to stay.”<br/>
If Alfred were here he’d clear his throat from the other side of the room – give Bruce that warning look he knows too well by now.  Maybe she suspects that he knows about the warrant out for her, Jim’s warpath to track her down.  Maybe the only reason she is here is because she hopes that Jim wouldn’t think Bruce stupid enough to let her back in.  Maybe she knows all that and this is just what he fears it to be, desperation banking on his dogged loyalty to her.</p><p>He wants to let go but she lets go before he does and takes a step back, letting his coat fall again.  Her arms are tight around her middle, warming herself as she walks towards the fireplace.  He can see the melted drops of snow in her hair – glinting under the superficial light of his penthouse.  She looks small, more fragile than the truth.  If Alfred were here he’d pull Bruce aside – reiterate every word Bruce’s head is telling his heart.  </p><p>He pours her a whiskey when he pours his own and on the couch he sits away from her – telling himself that he is giving her space, but knowing that it is just a front to try and keep the discipline eh hopes he has built up over the last few weeks.  Her hair is longer than he remembers and falls like broken light to her shoulders after she takes her jacket off.  There is a deep scrape, fresh, still pink from healing, from her neck to her shoulder and disappearing under the thin grey wool of her sweater.  She never wears anything he gives her, not the necklace, not the clothes or the gloves.  He knows that she probably hawks whatever doesn’t fit in her backpack, which she dropped at the front door, the moment she entered.  She smells like dust and brick, steel, the narrows and he knows that if he looks too carefully he’d see the specks of dried blood on her jeans.<br/>
She glances at him, feeling him taking in her appearance and the familiar indignance color her look.  “Rachel wont’ mind I’m here?”  She asks, voice absolutely even.  Of course Rachel can’t know that she’s there.  She knows that.  “No.” </p><p>Rachel is too good for him and if Rachel knew about any of this, she’d cut her losses, end their relationship before it ever really begins.  Rachel is a future.  And he’s not going to use her as a buffer.  So he lies to her.  Which in itself is nothing new.  He can count on one hand the people that he doesn’t lie to, or at least doesn’t lie as much to.</p><p>Selina’s gaze lingers a moment too long and it hurts.  Then she looks away, down to her glass and takes a careful sip of the liquor that he knows she doesn’t really like.  “I promise this is the last time, Bruce.”  She sounds sincere, resolute and it is, at once, a silent punch to his gut.  He knows what she knows, and they both know that they’re time has long run out, that they are fraying away at healthier fabric.<br/>
He says, what he always says, and what he will always mean – down to the very self-destructive core of him “I’ll always be here, Selina.” </p><p>It’s not that they haven’t tried.  Both of them.  Not always at the same time, not always for the right reasons – but they have, at least, attempted at a normal relationship or as close a semblance that they could have.  It’s not the pain, or the distrust, the risk of it all.  That he can handle and goes with the territory when it comes to Selina, when it comes to him.  It’s the shame of it – the weight of what she knows about him and what he knows about her, that’s what always gets them, that’s what always careens them suddenly over an edge, around a corner – making it harder and harder to really go back.</p><p>“Even when you marry her?”  Selina asks, and it feels like the Selina of ten years ago asking, calculating, planning ahead for herself.  “We’ve just been seeing each other for a couple of months, Selina.”  He answers, not looking at her.  He is not comfortable talking about Rachel with Selina, and it is not just out of respect for Rachel – he can see the way that Selina is pressing into her own wounds, trying to steel herself, make herself immune to the pain he is causing her.  “It’s coming though.” She says, still watching him.  “It’s not like it will be anyone else.”  His throat constricts because he knows what she means – it’s not like it will ever be Selina.  And it’s a perfected routine, this painful holding pattern, when his shackles are raised and he bites back, looking her dead in the eye “It’s not like I want it to be anyone else.”<br/>
And, of course, it lands.  She doesn’t shove, glower or burst away like she used to. She takes it silently. But he can see the cut, the vindication in her eyes.  “I’m just saying.  Don’t lie.”  </p><p>With a chill settling between them the tension rise again, lighting fast, and when she gets up to go to the guest room he gets up too and catches her by the hand, pulls her unresisting into him and he is back in that place he was before – discipline shattering, a future crumbling.</p><p>She returns his kiss with fervor and with her he lets his fingers dig deep into the back of her neck, pressing her to him as he fists up against her curls.  He struggles not to say it, the words pounding with his heart – it is always, and only, her.<br/>
It’s been more than a month since he’s felt her and when she presses a hand down the front of his pants he is already leaking, unabashedly pressing against her and pushing them back down to the couch.  With her there is no pretense, with her he is mess, a monster, a vengeful and selfish child – and she is hungry, eager to take anything that is given to her, clawing at his arms as he yanks her jeans down to her thighs, rolls her over and shove himself tightly inside of her as she breathes against his knuckles.  He holds her down, covers her and pulls her to him with a grip that no one could break.  She pants and grabs back at the small of his back, his thigh, urging him on, begging for him to stay close, stay inside.  He can feel his heart pound against her back, her heart thundering at his palm splayed over her breasts.<br/>
It doesn’t take long for his strokes to start to stutter, and he pulls out, already spilling at her moan.  </p><p>Save for their labored breathing, the air is still and thick with guilt. </p><p>He doesn’t expect fidelity from Rachel.  And he doesn’t even want to think about Selina and other men. And she already knows that he is sleeping with someone else.  The come down is reality, and it hurts more than any fight, any insult.  </p><p>“Is it like that with her?”  Selina asks, her face turned away, and he can hear it there – the hollow ache – it is enough to take the air out of his lungs with self-reproach.  He tries to make her face him, touches her shoulder, his heart gripped with regret. “Selina…”  But she doesn’t turn, lets his hand move from her shoulder to her chin – and still doesn’t face him.  He can feel wetness under his thumb – she’s not going to look at him now, she’s never going to let him see her cry again, that was one of the promises made in anger that she has kept for years.</p><p>“There is a warrant out of for me.”  She finally says, still facing away.  Her voice is neutral – waiting for his response. “Jim phoned me.”  He finally answers by way of confirmation.  “I told him that we don’t see each other anymore.”  When he told Jim that at least it was the truth, and even if he had hoped that it would be a clean break – a chance to start over, he’d wished it wasn’t true.  He doesn’t tell her that.  And maybe he should – because there is a stiffening to her shoulder and she moves away, sitting up, pulling her jeans up and running her fingers through her curls.<br/>
He can see her face reflected in the pane of the sliding door – the heel of her palm wiping at her cheek discreetly.  He should say something, anything.  But it’s not going to matter – too many corners turned, too many bridges burned.  </p><p>“Have you ever thought of seeing a shrink?”  She asks, briefly glancing in his direction, but not at him, before she picks up her jacket.  The scrape is inflamed, it looks painful.  He sits up and shakes his head, but he knows she’s not really asking because she wants to know.  “Have you?”  He counters, quietly, as he zips himself up.  “Can’t.”  She says plainly, and then with a small smile “I’d be arrested.”  It’s a jibe from years ago, back when they had a chance. So he smiles, and catching it she does turn to him again, pulling her jacket tight across her chest.<br/>
“I don’t think I should stay here after all.”  She says, tentative but honest.  “I’ll find somewhere else.”<br/>
He looks down, taking it in and suppressing the urge to convince her to stay.  It won’t make a difference, he knows – they’ve missed each other again, just a few bad decisions in one night and they’re back to opposite ends of the board.</p><p>“Do you need anything?”  He asks, not looking at her, not wanting to see the smirk he knows is there. “No, Bruce.”  She says flatly, and he is glad he doesn’t see her face for it.</p><p>She moves to the front door again and this time he does see the blood on her jeans, he sees the bash in the cuff of her jacket – made by a knife most likely.  “You should marry her.”  She says finally, when she turns to him after she picks up her backpack.  Her eyes are still, guarded again.  Love is nothing without trust – Alfred is always telling him that, as if repetition will make it sink in, will somehow mold his heart into a different shape, towards a different person.  “Alright.”  He answers deadpan and her eyes widen for just a second, and then crinkle at the sides before she shakes her head.  “Goodbye Bruce” A flash of fingerless leather gloves and a wan smile.  And when the doors close he can still smell the dust she leaves behind.</p>
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